The Rose He Left Behind

Xavier's years abroad had returned trailing all manner of rumors behind it. That he had fled after causing some scandal too serious to smooth over. That the Bransen family was laying groundwork to move their base of operations to another country. That Xavier was now preparing to inherit the family business — empty gossip, every bit of it, the sort of chatter with no nourishment in it at all.

Yet among all the people straining to learn more about him, Dolores was one of the few who had tried her hardest to forget. Because her relationship with Xavier had become such a hopeless tangle that she hardly knew what to call it anymore.

But as he always did, Xavier struck without warning and made a failure of her. With nothing more than a single meeting of their eyes, she was forced to admit that no one alive had thought about him as much as she had.

It had been that way since they were children.

"I can't say nothing's changed...... but seeing you two, I'm glad I came."

As he strode in with elegant ease, a bouquet swaying in his hand, the ache she'd forgotten began to stir just above her knee. Claudia, unable to contain her excitement, fired off her questions like rounds from a gun.

"How did you know? Did you find out and come back? Did you come back because of me?"

"Pure coincidence. I'd only just gotten home to find the place completely empty, so I went looking for where everyone had gone, and there was a flyer announcing your farewell performance. I came straight here without even unpacking. How could I not?"

"Ah! Right, I heard Luka and Madame Angélique were out somewhere today. And your mother and father had an appointment with the guild members in Coulomb, didn't they? Wait — where's Damien? Isn't he home?"

"Why do you know my family's whereabouts better than I do?"

"I invited them to come today, and every one of them said they were too busy and turned me down."

"Your own son gets snubbed too. It's only natural, I suppose."

Claudia giggled, then swept Xavier into a fierce hug, exactly as she had Dolores. "I thought you'd vanish for good and I'd never see your face again."

"Were you planning to abandon your hometown entirely?"

"Who knows what the future holds."

"Now you're trying to make me feel guilty."

"You disappeared for nearly two years and barely sent word — you're lecturing me? So how was Triabeul?"

"Well, first of all, there's something smeared rather catastrophically across your face. Glitter. It's everywhere."

Having spoken like a perfect gentleman, Xavier lifted Claudia lightly by the waist and set her back down — a movement as fluid as a scene from a ballet. That is, it would have been, had he not immediately started grumbling and brushing off his clothes.

"That was an expensive suit. You planning to pay for it?"

"I wish you were dead, you know."

Claudia turned toward Dolores and pointed at Xavier with her thumb, her face theatrically grave. Watching the two of them, Dolores gave a faint shake of her head and rose, carefully readjusting her grip on the cane.

"I have things to do today, so I'll be going."

Claudia's eyes went round as she looked back and forth between her and Xavier. Only now had she realized the frosty air hanging between the two of them.

"What's with you two? Did you have a fight or something?"

"It's nothing like that."

Dolores gave a short answer and moved to leave. But Xavier's hand caught her shoulder in one smooth motion and drew her, unbidden, back toward the sofa.

"Rolli, don't be like that."

"Don't."

"Didn't you miss me at all?"

"Starting in on me the moment you're back — clearly you haven't matured a bit."

Chin propped on his hand, lashes lowered, Xavier's green eyes traveled up and down her as she stood leaning on her cane. Then, absurdly, he stretched out the hand holding the bouquet and offered it to Claudia — his gaze still fixed on Dolores the whole time.

It didn't look especially sincere, but flowers were flowers, and Claudia moved to accept them. The instant she reached out, however, the bouquet darted away in the opposite direction.

"Thank y——"

Teasing them, Xavier drew the bouquet back, plucked a few sprigs of baby's breath from among the roses, and tossed them carelessly in Claudia's direction.

"Those are yours."

The rest of the flowers he held out to Dolores. "The roses suit this side better. A peace offering."

The red roses, their petals still tinged with green, stopped at the edge of Dolores's gaze. Flowers offered in reconciliation — flowers that had once wilted. Back in the days when she'd searched for his name among heaps of congratulatory wreaths, even these would have meant something.

"I'll decline. My hands are full."

Dolores refused with crisp finality. Claudia's brow creased slightly.

"Hey."

"What."

"Weren't those bought for me?"

"They were."

"So?"

"Changed my mind. Offering a bouquet to a woman with a fiancé would be terribly rude, after all. A gentleman's consideration shines brightest at moments like these, wouldn't you say?"

"Are you serious? There's no ulterior motive in there? Is there? That's ulterior motive, that is."

Xavier laughed low in his throat and shook his head. "To make a truer confession — you've hardly worked long enough to call it a retirement. So receiving these roses from me would be rather excessive, no?"

"So Dolores gets them and I don't — that's the ulterior motive, then."

"Maybe."

Xavier's guileless smile smoothed the air over. Then, without warning, an unpleasant feeling she had buried deep came rising back up. Dolores truly made up her mind to leave. But before she could fix her grip on the cane, she was preempted — a voice was calling for Claudia from outside.

"Hold on! Wait for me!"

Having begged a moment's patience, Claudia slipped out with quick, dancing steps, almost skipping. Soon the sound of people laughing and chattering began to drift in from beyond the door. Left behind in the dressing room were only two: Dolores and Xavier, facing each other in awkward silence.

"I'll be going too."

"Claudia told you to wait."

"Exchanging greetings was plenty."

Without looking at him, Dolores tightened her hand around the cane's handle. She passed by Xavier, focusing all her effort on not limping. But in that very instant, Xavier twisted his upper body and seized her cane, plucking it clean from her grasp.

"Didn't you miss me?"

Her knee throbbed deep inside. She twisted, trying to wrench the cane free, but Xavier didn't budge an inch. Seated like solid rock, he looked up at her.

"Rolli."

"Didn't I tell you not to call me that?"

He set the flowers down and rose, still gripping the cane. The faint scent of musk and lime cologne drifted to her nose.

"Then how about Mademoiselle Étoile?"

Dolores whirled around like a lightning strike and shoved his shoulder without mercy. Her face flushed with a faint, burning shame. The cane, glancing off his elbow, hit the floor with a cold clatter and rolled unsteadily away.

Xavier, far from being pushed back, only drew closer. The space between their noses shrank to nothing. Dolores did not flinch — she looked him dead in the eye. Merely meeting his gaze was enough to turn her stomach inside out. Her heart beat with a sickening rhythm.

"Why so prickly?" Xavier asked playfully. "Whatever happened to our darling little Rolli?"

"You're asking me that now? Try tormenting people in moderation."

"That's kindness for Claudia's benefit."

He tilted his head, just barely, and let the corner of his mouth curve into something loose and lazy. "Give me half of that, and I'd be quite confident I could turn docile."

The muscles of Dolores's jaw went taut. She pulled her teeth together and spoke through them, her voice gone cold. "I'm sorry, Xavier, but the moment my existence makes you happy, mine gets worse. Let go of my hand."

Xavier held her gaze for a long, searching moment — then obediently released it. The heat of his fingers loosened and slipped away, and the receding sensation fizzed up her spine like electricity.

"Ahh — come home after all this time, and not one person to welcome me."

"If word got out that you were back, there'd be far more than one or two people glad to see you. Your jokes are dreadfully unfunny."

"Triabeul killed my sense of humor."

"Only your sense of humor? What a shame."

A laugh trickled down deep in Xavier's throat. "What are you doing tonight?"

Such an impossibly casual question. "You haven't eaten yet, have you?"

Dolores's gaze sharpened in an instant. "I have no business eating with you."

"Do you have to put it so flatly? I'm just asking you to have dinner with me."

He stepped in. The distance closed in a heartbeat, and his tilted face nearly filled her vision. Close enough that she could feel his breath.

"Thinking about running already."

The boy she had once gazed up at with longing had become a young man whose thoughts she could no longer read at all. Dolores's fingertips trembled almost imperceptibly; she curled her hand into a fist. And in the end, unable to bear it, she fired back.

"You're the one who vanished without a word. Why are you acting like this only now?"

She hadn't meant to let it show. But that question, of all of them — perhaps it was the one she had been desperate, all this time, to hear answered.

Xavier did not answer.